The First Book of Michael

by Syl Mortilla

  The rare examples of Michael singing live in the latter years (‘Smile’ and ‘The Lost Children’ seen in candid footage and ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You’, ‘Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough’, Speechless’ and ‘Human Nature’ during This Is It) are just snippets – Michael could not sustain a vocal performance for any length of time. He certainly didn’t possess the physical capability to complete a fifty-night run at the O2. The Brunei Royal Concert gig of 1996 – just prior to the HIStory tour– was the last time Michael sang the majority of a show live. But this was a standalone performance, not part of a tour. The 3D gimmickry, pyrotechnics and the like, that became increasingly prevalent, were all distractions from the fact that Michael as a live vocal performer was becoming a spent force. But he still endeavoured to give his fans a good show. As Katharine Hepburn observes in The Legend Continues documentary, “I think what makes him a star is - he can do it, and you can’t help looking at him.”

  And, sure enough, the HIStory tour as a dance showcase and vehicle for Michael’s humanitarian efforts, was indeed spectacular. As the stage got bigger and bigger, it gave Michael the necessary increased space to bring his vision of philanthropic theatre to life – an untouchable catalogue of unique and iconic choreography. However, the expanding stage also made Michael look more and more alone up there. This being the only shame in the HIStory tour. Anyway, show me a contemporary lip-syncing artist that can deliver a show even half as good. You can’t.

  In the documentary Michael Jackson’s Private Home Movies, there is a much-loved segment in which Michael protests an interviewer who is determined to put a positive spin on a conversation about going on tour. Michael exclaims, “I go through hell touring!” After some persuading from the persistent interviewer, Michael sarcastically claims, “I love to tour!” It was Jermaine Jackson that spoke of Michael’s apprehension before tours; an anxiety stirred by the known inevitability of his having to resort to medication to fulfil its obligations. The artificial stimulation of artists to meet such demands is a practice as old as the industry: Judy Garland was fed amphetamines to ‘help’ her keep to The Wizard of Oz filming schedule.

  Saying all this, it is quite evident that Michael is happy during periods of the HIStory tour - more so than he appears on the Dangerous tour. He can be seen smiling as he performs, no doubt enjoying the knowledge of his career being back on track, a fact made evident by an appreciative and admiring crowd of up to one-hundred-thousand people, gratefully enraptured in their opportunity to see a legendary, historically-significant figure renowned for his dancing genius. Who is dancing. And all for £17.50.

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  One particular set-piece of the HIStory tour that critics disdainfully discuss, is the flamboyant theatrics of the show’s version of ‘Earth Song’. At the conclusion to the performance, Michael stands – Tiananmen Square-style - in front of an encroaching tank, before facing off the disembarked soldier, removing his gun, and replacing it with a sunflower: a gesture clearly referencing the iconic photograph of Jan Rose Kasmir at an anti-Vietnam war rally at the Pentagon, in 1967. What people forget, is that Michael – with his being a uniquely global figure - had to communicate his message without having to rely on spoken language. Something he did through creating dramatic, easily-interpreted visual statements. Michael wasn’t about to let the slight inconvenience of 6,500 extant languages become an obstacle in his mission for peace. The ‘Earth Song’ performance is the ‘Heal The World’ lyric, “turn their swords into ploughshares” made manifest. This Biblical concept formed part of the practical solution in the fulfilment of Michael’s dream: a common-sense notion as old as time, yet perpetually dismissed by greedy and fearful governments across the globe.

  ‘Earth Song’ in itself isn’t exactly devoid of ingenious musical and linguistic nuances - what with the chorus itself being a plaintive cry for the plight of the planet and her “weeping shores”. As well as its unmistakable melody, of course. Michael always said that melody is king, that melodies remain eternally unique, and are what people will still whistle in a hundred years’ time, regardless of progressions in technology and future production techniques. Melody knows no language barrier.

  We all have our favourite Michael hiccups, “hoos”, grunts and yelps: the inimitable minutiae of Michael’s work. His adlibs - often imploring over a soaring, climactic crescendo - were executed like no-one else could. Michael always signed his best work with a particularly sumptuous “hee hee”. Though the “hee hee” was no mere gimmick: it being more a watermark than a trademark. Some of his most ‘wholesome’ “hee hees” are found on self-penned songs, with ‘They Don’t Care About Us’ containing a prime example. Again, “hee hee” was a universally recognised sound.

  (Another indicator of Michael’s pride in his self-penned pieces was in their inclusion in concert set-lists. ‘Working Day And Night’ and ‘Heartbreak Hotel’, particularly. But on the HIStory tour, Michael even dropped ‘Man In The Mirror’ for ‘HIStory’, and ‘Human Nature’ – having previously been a set-list certainty – was replaced with ‘Stranger In Moscow’.)

  The HIStory tour contains – by far – the most instances of Michael playfully interacting with the crowd. There are many enjoyable moments - one particularly noteworthy example being the drama-stoking Charlie Chaplin tribute that precedes the iconic drums of ‘Billie Jean’. The extent of the lip-syncing lends to this playfulness (perhaps epitomised during ‘Blood On The Dance Floor’, in which, at one point – in-between shoulder-snapping his way across the stage – Michael literally lies down on the floor). Too, the prevalence of lip-syncing paradoxically means that there is much joy in discovering a spontaneous yelp or hiccup caught by the microphone. Comedians learn their routines down to the minutiae of an equivalent comedic beat. As the most experienced entertainer on Earth, Michael understood that a framework to operate around was vital for successful delivery, with his ability to improvise choreography akin to that of a jazz veteran.

  Concerning the comedian analogy, it’s relevant to note Michael’s love for slapstick humour. He was a huge fan of The Stooges, even writing the foreword to a biography on them,

  “The Stooges’ craziness helped me to relax and to escape life's burdens. They influenced me so much that I even wrote a song about them… Curly was definitely my favourite Stooge. He was unquestionably a comic genius who understood ad-libbing better than anyone… underneath the smile may have been a tear - after all, he was a clown. But it is our duty as entertainers to satisfy the people - to give of our souls even if it hurts.”

  Michael rarely riffed randomly, but when he did, in the context of the HIStory tour, they are moments cherished by fans. It’s the very reason why treasured compilations of these moments exist as videos on YouTube. They are the equivalent to an inside joke. And all the more entertaining for it.

  Seeing the occasions in which Michael instructs the sound engineers whilst performing – often seamlessly, via a dissatisfied raise of the eyes towards the back of the stage, or through a gesture incorporated into a dance move that is requesting an increase in volume levels - are priceless. Then there are the more overt examples, such as towards the end of ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You’ during the Brunei Royal Concert, in which Michael turns to the rear of the stage and in a good-natured tone, enquiringly sings, “Brad, what you gonna do?” The enthusiastic live vocalisations prior to the first verse of ‘Jam’ at the beginning of the same gig also suggest that Michael was in a positive mood about being back in front of an audience.

  Also in Brunei, there is an almost self-parodying instance of Michael forgetting the lyrics to ‘Beat It’ and replacing them with any syllables that fit the rhythm - at least it gives us a great example of what Rod Temperton meant regarding using staccato rhythms when writing for Michael - and it’s certainly better than one example from a HIStory tour concert, in which Michael is seen forgetting the lip-synced lyrics to ‘Beat It’ as he puts his face into the camera - before putting his hand over his mout
h to disguise the fact.

  In much the same way that Michael could inhabit the necessary emotion to so convincingly convey what he wanted to express in his songs – an innate trait evident in him since being eleven and singing ‘I’ll Be There’ – he somehow manages to also do whilst lip-syncing. And when he lip-synced in the Jackson 5– who berated him then? I’m sure Michael sincerely wished he could have sung live in the latter years, but it was beyond his – or anyone’s – physical capacity. Lungs damaged after singing since the age of eleven in smoky venues, or not.

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  Though Michael effused a childlike innocence, as with all superheroes, there existed the alter ego: the self-mutilated manifestation of a tragically mistaken anger with himself for perennially failing to compete with the paradigm of perfectionism demanded from him during his youth. Michael was an anarchic utopian: he was like a river - when peaceable, you could sit by him, close your eyes, relax and be bewitched by his chortling ruminations; yet, when you encountered the spontaneous rage of his waterfall, you heard his white noise, his turbid despair. Both occur in his music: a spectrum of sadness; a many-colour melancholy of melodies that range from the placid to the brutal. Both are enigmatic. Both are beautiful. Both are never more prominent than in the song ‘Morphine’.

  In ‘Morphine’, Michael gently delivers the words “Demerol, Demerol, oh God he’s taking Demerol” whilst the mechanical bleeps and beeps of medical equipment are played in the background. This lull is then unleashed into the barked chorus of “He’s takin’ Morphine!” which incorporates the sounds of the machinations of equipment used to help people breathe – specifically, it is a sample taken from David Lynch’s movie The Elephant Man. It is the sound of the breathing apparatus Joseph Merrick needed to keep him alive.

  The song featured on the 1997 release, Blood On The Dance Floor, which shifted over six million units and remains the biggest-selling remix album of all time. With this in mind, it seems reasonable to suggest that the song ‘Morphine’ must be the most vastly dismissed cry for help in all of history. Michael being vulnerable to relapsing into a drug habit was certainly no secret.

  Indeed, during the AEG trial, Karen Faye testified about how, on the Dangerous tour, Michael’s management kept him drugged up. Sony had set a new stipulation that required Michael to get a loan in order to finance the tour. He needed collateral, which was the catalogue. The Chandler allegations then derailed the tour, during which Michael was also fighting a plagiarism case (the harrowing video-taped deposition is unflinchingly graphic in its portrayal of Michael’s suffering with pain). Michael went into rehab. In another taped deposition filmed years later, Michael talks about being so impaired by pain medication, that he can’t remember whether or not he signed over power of attorney.

  Ergo, Michael’s painkiller habit was never rekindled on a whim.

  The last time I saw Michael perform live was at the 1999 charity show Michael Jackson and Friends. (The event was subtitled ‘What More Can I Give’ after a song Michael had written before recording with a celebrity supergroup - the song was scuppered by Sony.)

  During the event’s rendition of ‘Earth Song’, the front part of the stage was elevated to create what Michael himself had titled ‘The Bridge of No Return’. No return, indeed. The dramatic prop suddenly and swiftly collapsed, falling into the orchestra pit. But being the consummate professional he was, Michael spontaneously leapt from the debris to continue performing. Michael hurt his back so badly in the incident, that he returned to the solace of the analgesics he’d been treated with in the aftermath of the infamous burning he suffered filming for Pepsi in 1984.

  I’m willing to concede - with regards the Estate’s apparent attempt to sanitise Michael’s soul - that the gruesome image offered up by the truth of the track ‘Morphine’ would certainly make for a particularly unpalatable cartoon.

  But if Michael taught us anything, it is that – regardless – truth is always beautiful.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For the lips of a strange woman drop as a honeycomb, and her mouth is smoother than oil.

  PROVERBS 5:3

  Mothers that have faith in their children ultimately see their faith qualified. Katherine had every faith in Michael, and the qualification is there for all to see. As Michael himself said, “All my success has been based on the fact that I wanted to make my mother proud, to win her smile and approval.” Such immense love between a mother and son. The poetry Michael wrote for her; the album dedications; even the iconic song, ‘The Way You Make Me Feel’ - written for Katherine after she’d requested a song with a shuffling rhythm.

  I remember a discussion I once had with a friend in 1993, when I was a teenager. The friend asked me if I thought Michael had written his best song yet, to which I replied that I didn’t believe he had. I explained that I imagined his best was to come, because the grief he would feel when his mother died would stir in him an artistic expression at a level we hadn’t hitherto witnessed. He wouldn’t be able to help but write a song about it. As an artist – to try and manage the situation - it’s what he would have had to do. Of course, Michael didn’t live long enough to write that song about the bereavement of his mother. Though his sadness at the self-destructive nature of humanity towards Mother Nature provided us with an equivalent (it was a sad day indeed when Michael Jackson, of all people, was moved to record the words, “I used to dream / I used to glance beyond the stars / Now I don’t know where we are / Although I know / We’ve drifted far”).

  Michael’s adoration of his own mother is well documented, but in the foreword he contributed to a recipe book, he reveals an appreciation for the magical nature of motherhood in general:

  “Remember when you were little and your mother made a pie for you? When she cut a slice and put it on your plate, she was giving you a bit of herself, in the form of her love. She made you feel safe and wanted. She made your hunger go away, and when you were full and satisfied, everything seemed all right… You may think that your apple pie has only sugar and spice in it. A child is wiser… with the first bite, he knows that this special dish is the essence of your love.”

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  The theme of the femme fatale is a prominent one in Michael’s work, something that led to accusations of his being misogynistic. This is a somewhat myopic perspective, as well as one easily discredited. Fundamentally – after all – the very idea of the femme fatale is one that acknowledges the power that women can wield.

  During the 1984 Grammy Awards - when Michael was nominated for fourteen, before winning an unprecedented eight of them - upon accepting one of the gongs, there is a moment when Quincy Jones whispers in Michael’s ear. Instantly, Michael turns back to the microphone and gives a shout-out to “the girls in the balcony”. Later on in the ceremony - when Michael once again returns to the podium to collect another prize - Michael jokes about having made a deal with himself to remove his aviators if he went on to break the record for the number of Grammy’s won in a single night. In what seems to be an afterthought, before taking off his glasses, Michael also dedicates the gesture to “the girls at the back.”

  Michael’s sense of humility was on full display during his accepting of the awards, with him using the occasion to dedicate one of them – in inference, at least - to the unjustly maligned black musical luminary, Jackie Wilson. Michael also thanked Steven Spielberg for giving him the opportunity to work on the E.T. soundtrack, for which Michael won one of the Grammy’s. Michael explained that he felt an affinity with the cinematic alien, by saying,

  “He's in a strange place and wants to be accepted… He's most comfortable with children, and I have a great love for kids. He gives love and wants love in return, which is me. And he has that super power which lets him lift off and fly whenever he wants to get away from things on Earth, and I can identify with that. He and I are alike in many ways.”

  The Thriller album, for which Michael received the remaining seven accolades, features ‘Lady In My Life’ - a
song saturated in sensuality. This track, however, was written by Rod Temperton. A more accurate portrayal of Michael’s attitudes towards women and sexuality around this time are found in the self-penned pop soap opera, ‘Billie Jean’ and the Thriller outtake, ‘Carousel’ in which Michael references the naïve voyeuristic circus entertainment that was “Only your eyes for a dime”.

  Michael’s companions that night were Brooke Shields and Emmanuel Lewis. Candid backstage footage of the event that was recently made public shows Michael, Brooke and Emmanuel in an elevator. Whilst the three are hidden from public view, Brooke is essentially ignored at the expense of Emmanuel. Though as soon as the elevator doors open, Michael once again takes Brooke’s arm.

  Michael’s behaviour in the footage is certainly susceptible to close-minded and cynical judgement. Yet, it is important to bear in mind that at this juncture in Michael’s life, it seems he purposely curtailed the gratification of his libido in an effort to concentrate on his primary focus – his galvanised career. Also – and no less significantly – Michael’s apparent disinterest in sex at this point was perhaps a consequence of his uniquely peculiar upbringing: one that left him hesitant with regards to such matters. What with the mystifying messages that had bombarded his maturing psyche - the bewilderment of being torn between a profound loyalty to his venerated stay-at-home mother and her deeply religious views, and the negative contrast of a dedication to a life on the road in which witnessing behaviour of sexual immorality was par-for-course. Michael’s precocious eyes were witnessing nightly the debauchery of the strip clubs that formed part of the Jackson 5’s promotional circuit, as well as the behaviours that were an inevitable consequence of sharing bedrooms in which his father and brothers entertained groupies. Michael’s repulsion at the disrespect for his mother and in the treatment of said groupies, lends further support for his love of women in its own right.